


Propinquity

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F1 Summer Slash 2015, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's as though his mind wants to taunt him with the taboo; you've been around him for so long, have you thought about him like </i>this<i>...? Until then, he hadn't. And now he can scarcely stop.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Propinquity

**Author's Note:**

> This departed pretty sharply from the lyrics given, I hope it doesn't affect your enjoyment of it!

_I've known of all the heartaches_  
_I've known of all the pain._  
 _I've seen you when the sun shines._  
 _And I've seen you when it rains._  
 _I've seen you make a look of love_  
 _From just an icy stare._  
 _I've known you for a long time_  
 _But I've just begun to care._

The Monkees - "Propinquity"

 

 

He'd never really noticed it before, to his own chagrin. Not until his first win; not until _after_ his first win, because God knows how wrapped up in his own emotions he was after that dizzying high. Maybe - and it could be considered quite arrogant to assume this - it was never there before then. But it's the way Rob carries himself now. _I've got a winner._ The distinct swagger in his gait, the sparkle in his eyes, the smile that's approaching smug. Felipe might be reading too much into it, buoyed by the skip in his own step. But... _**I've** got a winner._

Felipe likes that demeanour on him. More than he'd ever expected, so much so that despite having worked together on and off for three years, it puts Rob in a new light. It's more than just watching Rob go by; it's thinking about it when Rob's not around. Imagining it when he's alone at night. That _swagger_.

Soon Felipe's imagination goes further still. At first only briefly, a subconscious _what if_ he recoils from in giddy embarrassment. It's as though his mind wants to taunt him with the taboo; you've been around him for so long, have you thought about him like _this_...? Until then, he hadn't. And now he can scarcely stop.

In too deep to care about the taboo anymore, he even has a favourite scenario. Felipe likes to imagine Rob above him while he reclines. On hands and knees in darkness and amongst rumpled sheets, bare and pale, milk skin in moonlight. Dark mop of hair untidy, blue-so-blue eyes focused on him in ways they never are in public. Promise and hunger there, a seductive focus, pulling him in.

Rob's cock would be hard in his briefs, his arousal undisguised; Felipe imagines lifting a feverish hand to feel the length of his cock through soft cotton, the hardness of it, the little circle of damp indicating the soak of precome.

Rob would turn him over with one firm hand at his waist and spread his thighs with his knee, rubbing warm hands over his asscheeks and sliding a teasing finger over his hole, slippery and prepared and ready, _so_ ready--

There's a gentle knock at the door. "You decent?"

Felipe's eyes snap open. A noise half-emerges from him before he chokes on it, a flash of panic surging through him and mixing uneasily with the fresh jolt of arousal at the mere sound of Rob's voice. He pushes himself away from the wall of his private room in the motorhome, his knees weak. His strangled noise must have sounded like one of assent, because the door swings open.

Felipe half-turns, a sharp movement to aim his hunched back towards his intruder, his fantasy, fighting to free a nerveless hand from his pants, fingers damp with precome, sheer panic draining the colour from his face.

"Oh, what you--" Rob stops mid-sentence, and Felipe feels eyes on him, boring into him. He looks behind him, wide-eyed, zipping his race suit up to his lower ribs. Rob is frowning suspiciously, trying to peer over Felipe's shoulder. " _Oh._ "

Felipe opens his mouth to speak but the words fold in on themselves, collapsing in his throat. He feels a hot wash of shame and guilt pass over his face.

"Shame you can't crack a window in here, eh?" Rob says with a sly half-smile. Something inside Felipe hopes he might disappear through the floor, and he looks away.

"C'mon mate, we've all been caught having a wank," Rob says a little more gently, sidling up beside him and bumping Felipe's shoulder with his own. Felipe musters a weak chuckle, but his wide eyes still have the look of a rabbit in headlights.

If this had been a fantasy, Rob would ask him if he'd finished. _What were you thinking about,_ he'd ask, voice a seductive purr, easing Felipe back against the wall. _**Who** were you thinking about…_

Felipe feels his skin flush deeper, his still half hard cock twitching, acutely aware that Rob could look down at any moment and see it. "Is...I-I..."

_...Rob would pull him into himself, brazen hand delving into Felipe's trousers, biting back a cocky smirk…_

"You alright?" Rob says, gentler still.

A hundred different responses from a multitude of fantasies crash through his mind and do nothing to help muster some semblance of a train of thought. He stares up at Rob, into those blue-so-blue eyes, almost witless. His brain offers something: _fuck me, fuck me here on the table--_ His mouth opens and moves without sound.

Rob looks him up and down, appearing mildly concerned. He places the documents he'd brought in with him on the massage table. "...You have a look at these when you're ready and let me know what you think, okay?" No longer looking like he's trying to hold back a grin, he gives a sincere nod of apology and backs towards the door, opening it behind him. "Sorry, I'll leave you be."

Felipe finally takes a decent breath. So tangled, so lost is he in a maelstrom of arousal and shame and fantasy and reality that he almost, almost calls out - _it was you, I was thinking about you, I think about you like this for months, come here and...and..._ \- the door closes behind Rob and he's left alone.

Forehead pressed against the door, Felipe's breathing comes in short, ragged pants as he desperately jerks himself off, chasing those fantasies given new life and new power by Rob's brief intrusion. He claps his other hand firmly over his mouth to muffle his hoarse groan when he comes, thrusting into his hand and pretending it belongs to Rob.

More recently, his fantasies have been sweetened. No longer just _Rob naked_ and _Rob's mouth on me_ and _Rob bending me over,_ not simply fumbling in the dark as an erotic means to an end. When he's done and he's wiped away the sticky mess, he imagines Rob scooping him up, bringing him in close, dripping wet kisses on his neck and shoulder until sleep washes over him.

Felipe peels his forehead away from the door and glances back at the sheets of paper Rob left for him. Telemetry. Just cold, clinical data.

He thinks about how he'd settle for an arm slung around his shoulders and a kiss to the temple right now.

They are close, he and Rob. Too close, some would have it. But for Felipe, they are not close enough.


End file.
